


no more dreaming like a girl (so in love with the wrong world)

by strangesmallbard



Category: Mass Effect, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Gen, Henry is Regina's biological son, Miranda!Regina, Once Upon a Time in the Mass Effect universe, Shepard!Emma, TIM!Mr. Gold, crossover AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:37:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangesmallbard/pseuds/strangesmallbard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You need operatives.” She said, chin tilted up. “You’ve read my file by now. My mother engineered me to have no flaws. To automatically choose power and duty over love.” </p><p>He rose a brow and pointed his cane toward the bundle in her arms. “Well, that one failed, dearie. Considering all you’re doing now is for the boy.”</p><p>(Once Upon a Time/Mass Effect Crossover AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	no more dreaming like a girl (so in love with the wrong world)

**Author's Note:**

> A small ficlet out of my OUAT/Mass Effect universe. The title is from the Florence + The Machine song, “Blinding” (which is kind of my theme song for Young!Regina). If you’re curious about this AU, please do leave me a message. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

The first piece of crucial information he noticed: Her top lip, badly bloodied. He offered medigel, but it was declined with a head shake full of mistrust. The baby was cradled in her arms, only his small nose sticking out of the blankets. Never underestimate a parent fighting for their child, a fact he carried with him everywhere he went. She hardly looked the golden beacon of perfection, however. Her hair tied back, her face so beaten, her eyes steely and hard. She wore a shapeless thing, a hoodie. N7. He curled his lips. It was not hers, he reasoned. Too large, it nearly swallowed her whole. Etched onto the side of the emblem: D. Stables. The boy's father, dead by her mother's reckoning. She was trembling, visibly. Her face the picture of grief and rage, only softened by her love for the boy in the contours of her face, and tempered by how she tried to control the emotions. She was desperate, young, and full of potential. And she had searched for  _him_ , through hell and back. To make a deal. Even knowing the dangers, as deals with the illusive Mr. Gold tended to make were never without a price. She would be putty in his hands if he says the right words. 

"You need operatives." She said, chin tilted up. "You've read my file by now. My mother engineered me to have no flaws. To automatically choose power and duty over love."  

He rose a brow and pointed his cane toward the bundle in her arms. "Well, _that_ one failed, dearie. Considering all you're doing now _is_  for the boy."

Her lip curled "My mother learned the hard way that you can't take love out of DNA, like a simple mutation. But I learned as well. Love gets  _me_  no where. It's a weakness. I loved my mother, and she hurt me. I loved-" Her voice cut off, her the pain her Alliance solider's name holds in her still too raw. She clears her throat. "I lost. I'm ready to be all I can be. And  _you_  are known for giving your operatives full reign over their sections." 

He nodded, and leaned back in the plush shuttle seats. "I know how…protocol can damage an operation, yes." 

The baby made a mewling noise, and her entire face changed before his eyes. Her eyes softened, the hard lines in her forehead smoothed, and her lips tugged up into a grin. She quieted the baby with a bar or two of humming.

She cleared her throat again and flashed him another warning gaze. He stopped his curious analyzing of mother and child, and resumed a neutral stance; his hand poised on his cane, his face devoid of any discoverable emotion.

"How do I know if you're up to the challenge, Ms. Mills?"

Her voice lowered. "In two months I can be back to my prime condition. I can be ready for any operation. No emotional attachments." He rose a brow. "Even with my child in my arms, I was still able to take down my mother's goons." She shifts the baby in her arms, and he makes a soft sigh.

"So I get an operative. And what do you get out of this deal, dearie?"

She sighed. "Protection. From my mother. She'll stop at nothing to get to me, and kill my son. I want my son adopted into a good, stable home. I want most of my pay re-directed into an account for his well-being." 

"Will you want contact with the boy?"

Her lips set in a hard line. She seemed to hold the baby a little tighter. "No. None. Never at all."

He understood. She wanted to rid herself of ties to people she cares for. And she also wants him protected.  _And_ she also wants a life of her own, however she's willing to give a portion of it up for him. Such curious juxtapositions. Yes, he'd be able to use her. Someone denying emotional ties, trying to sever them, but needing protection would be easy to subtly control. Receive loyalty from. He'd have to watch her, however. Her eyes were too steely to be trusted. As were his own. A good match, perhaps. 

"I'll make sure your mother never gets a hold of the boy." He smiled crookedly. "And you'll have freedom." The answer to a question, he knew, was swirling in her mind. It's how he got to where he was. By reading people so efficiently. 

She looks at him with a touch of hope, a fraction of wonder in her eyes before she presses it out and nods curtly. He extends his hand in a show of warmth.  

"Welcome to Cerberus, Operative Mills."

* * *

Two months later, on the dot and there she was in his office. Gone was the tied back, limp hair. It hung just above her shoulders and had a curl at the bottom. Gone was the blood on her face, the bruises on her cheeks. What remained, curiously enough, was a small scar on the top of her lip. A symbol, perhaps?

She was wearing the specially made suit. White and black and orange, Cerberus colors. With shielding and optimal for movement. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes held everything that was fiery, that was steel, and nothing of the warmth he remembered. She had kept her promise. She was an iron-gazed soldier. Not a mother. Certainly not a daughter. 

She knew she was free.  

He would make sure she never realized the price for that freedom.

He made no show of greetings and indicated to a figure on the holo-screen with his cane. A close up of an Alliance Solider, an N7 emblem on her hard suit. She had just taken her helmet off, and her blond hair was in a bun at the base of her neck. Her face was lashed with burns. She was staring at something off into the horizon, the reflection of her anguish clear in her eyes.

 _Akuze._  Such a failed experiment. But came it, a surprise in a survivor. He leaned his head forward. She met his gaze with one of her own. Her emotions were passive, only present in her eyes. Her brows knit, however, in mild curiosity.

"Regina, meet Commander Swan." 

Her brow furrows. "An Alliance Soldier? What could Cerberus possibly want with her?" 

"She survived Akuze."

Regina's eyes widened ever so slightly, and she raised a carefully arched eyebrow. She examined the Commander's battered face with a touch of curiosity, and her mouth parted ever so slightly in fascination.

"The files you sent said that no one was supposed to survive that."

He nodded. "Indeed." 

He swiveled around to face the screen. 

"We'll keep an eye on her, Operative Mills. She may be…. _very_  significant yet."

He heard a small noise of disbelief, and turned back around to face her. Her mask was back on the moment he looked into her eyes. He didn't comment.

"Ready for your first operation?"

She nodded. Her lips pursed in resolution. Her eyes hardened.

"I'm ready." 


End file.
